Andrea
by Cecelia Pemberly
Summary: When his friends James and Theodore get too drunk to even walk on their own, Andrew decided to escort them home with the help of a young barmaid who he feels a likeness to.


"Just one more round!" James shouted to the barmaid for the 5th time. Theodore put his wine glass up to his mouth and chugged the rest like it was water or juice squeezed from a fruit. The table was cluttered with wooden, barrel like mugs and most of them were empty. James started to laugh at nothing at all and soon Theodore joined in. Andrew sat between them with his head propped up on his palm. He looked at his two friends who were drunker than pirates at the moment.

"I know it's our first day back in Port Royal, but don't you think that you two have had enough to drink?" Andrew asked.

"Ye can never have too much te drink, Andrew. But it surprises me at ye sayin' that 'cause aren't Irishmen supposed to be known fer drinkin'?" James explained. His speech was slurred and his rolled his head from side to side. Andrew shook his head. The barmaid walked over with three drinks in her hand. She handed them to Theodore and James but Andrew refused to take another.

"Smart move, sir," she said. "I don't enjoy serving men like your two friends here." She had reddish-blond hair tied up into a messy bun and her eyes were dark forest green. Her face was glistening in sweat since James and Theodore were asking for so many orders and it was one of the hottest nights of the year. Her apron had some red wine stains and other blotches of brown and her faded pink dress underneath dragged on the ground every now and again.

"They usually aren't like this. I don't know what's gotten into them, but I should probably get them out of here soon." The barmaid nodded before taking Andrew's drink to another table. Andrew was bloody thankful that the tavern was nearly empty. He didn't want anyone to see naval officers this drunk. He had only had 3 drinks, yet he felt completely sober save for a few gagging attacks.

After his 8th drink, Theodore's mug slipped out of his hand before he could put it down. Andrew looked over at him. He could barely keep his head up. He had dark bags under his eyes and his breath smelled strongly of wine. James didn't look much better. He already had vomit on his waistcoat. Andrew shook his head and smiled slightly, but he still couldn't stand it. But before he knew it, Theodore vomited onto the table. The barmaid walked over to Andrew and said, "That's why."

"That's it! I'm taking you to my house!" Andrew stood up and walked behind Theodore and James. He grabbed them by their waists and picked them up. Their knees buckled and they fell to the ground. "This may be a problem…"

"Would you like some help?" the barmaid asked. Andrew was struggling to get James off the floor.

"I would like to take upon your offer. By the way, what is your name?"

"Andrea," she told Andrew as she walked over to Theodore. "And what is your name along with these drunkards?"

"I'm Andrew Gillette." It was then he realized that their names were the same save for one letter. "And this man I'm struggling with is James Norrington. That's Theodore Groves."

"I see. And where are we heading?"

"My house." He got James's right arm behind his back so Andrew could act as a crutch. Andrea did the same with Theodore. James's feet barely moved. "Ok…James. You need…to move…your feet," Andrew said slowly so James could react to it. Slowly, he picked up his feet, but only a small bit above the ground. It was something.

The town was dark, with only a dozen or so lanterns lit for a few miles probably due to the heat issue. Andrew and Andrea were the only people outside most likely. The full moon was directly overhead and it cast enough light to guide them. Andrew would occasionally glance at Andrea who was trying very hard to avoid tripping over Theodore's feet. He felt something. They were the same. They had the same name…almost. She looked like she was from Ireland. She wanted to help out. Andrew knew. He was in love.

"So how long have you three known each other?" Andrea asked.

"I have known James my whole life. We met Theodore when James was 8 and I was 6."

"That seems like you have a strong friendship. I never had that pleasure. I was a secluded person. I used to be very wealthy. I was to get my father's estate when I was married, because I was the eldest child. Unfortunately, my fiancé, whom I loved very much, was killed when his merchant his was raided by…bloody pirates, before we were able to marry. My father died and the estate went to my younger brother and his wife. So now I am a poor barmaid, too lowly even to be noticed." She gave a slight smile

"If you were too lowly to be noticed, than a lieutenant would just pass you by," Andrew started. He pulled James up onto his feet after he slipped off his shoulder. "And I don't think that was the case tonight."

"You know, you don't act like a lieutenant," Andrea told him.

"I don't?"

"No, you don't. My vision of a lieutenant is someone who never has time for fun or friends, is serious about there work and has a spouse already. You aren't any of those things. You are flattering, modest, kind, caring, and most of all sweet."

Andrew blushed.

"Well, here we are!" he said excitedly. "Um…if you could help them up into the guestroom, it would be greatly appreciated." Andrew took a key out of his pocket and wrapped his other hand around James's waist even tighter to ensure that he wouldn't fall down. He quietly slipped the key into the lock and opened the door trying not to wake any of the maidens.

"Now James…please…be…quiet." James nodded his hanging head slightly. Andrew looked over at Theodore who was dry coughing. "Andrea!" She looked at him quickly before taking Theodore's frock coat and covering his mouth so nothing got on the floor. Andrew's stomach lurched at the sight.

Getting up the stairs was a challenge. Usually James and Theodore were one step behind Andrew and Andrea. Andrew's muscles were starting to burn from the extra weight, especially his calves. He swore several times under his breath.

"That's not very proper of you, Mr. Gillette," Andrea said as she tried desperately to move Theodore's legs up the stairs. If Andrew was hurting this much, she had to feel like she was going to fall over and die right on the spot.

"Miss Andrea, please take a rest. I'll come back for Theodore in a moment," Andrew insisted.

"I'll be fine," Andrea said with strain in her words. Andrew looked at her knees that were shaking underneath her gown.

"No, you aren't. Stay here." Andrea looked at him with her large green eyes. They started to sparkle, but not in a happy way. There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes and before Andrew could put James safely down, her knees buckled and she tumbled down the wooden stairs with Theodore not far behind. He heard her head hit the stair's railing guards with hollow vibrations. She screamed halfway down.

Screaming…

James's half opened, half conscious eyes suddenly popped open all the way. He looked at Andrew who was still gripping his waist.

"Let go of me!" James ordered. "Who was screaming?" Seeing James suddenly sober, Andrew dropped James onto the stairs and ran toward Andrea. James got up after rubbing the back of his head that had collided with a stair and ran after him, staggering because of some left over wine side effects.

"Sit down!" Andrew ordered back to James, who out of shock from the seriousness in his voice that usually wasn't there, sat down.

Andrea lay sprawled on the ground with a gash on the back of her head and on her right temple. Andrew put his hand on her chest to check for a heartbeat.

He could barely feel one.

"Andrea…don't…please…"

He started to cry next to her.

James got up and walked quietly down toward Theodore. He did the same thing Andrew had done, but there was a pronounced heart beat. Theodore was so drunk that he didn't fight the fall, so there were barely any marks on him.

"Andrew, you are a religious man," James said with only a word or two slurred. "The Bible says that there is a time to be born and a time to die. The time of death has come upon a woman who-"

"She can't be dead, James! She can't be!" Andrew cried. He gently took her hand and clasped it between his. He put it against his chest and cried.

"Your dead will live; their bodies will rise."

"James, stop it! She isn't dead! She can't be!"

"Andrew! Get a hold of yourself!" James grasped his shoulders. "She is dead! She's gone! She has passed on and there is nothing-"

A small sound interrupted him.

Andrew looked down. He saw Andrea's eyes tighten and small beads of tears dripped over her mounds like red rain.

"I wanted to help. Would dying ever help you?" she whispered. Andrew got down on his knees and embraced her more tightly than anyone else in his entire life.

"The dead will live," Andrew whispered.

"And God will come," Andrea finished.


End file.
